The Immersion Project
by Building Castles
Summary: What happens when the Victorious gang live together as roommates? Will they find a way to live together without killing each other, or will they fail miserably? Watch as they get jobs and struggle with love, life, and themselves.
1. The First Day

**Hey! I've been kinda stuck on my other story, Stalkers, lately. This idea's been bouncing around in my head for a few days, and I really wanted to write this story. I'll try and update stalkers soon, but I hope you enjoy this story!**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

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An annoying, bubble-gum, glitzy song blasted out of my alarm clock, effectively pulling me from my slumber. Groaning, I rolled over and fell out of bed, hitting the carpeted floor of my RV hard.

"Shit." I muttered, standing up and rubbing my aching back. I turn to look at the time on the cat shaped clock. The clock read 6:30 am, and the world was just now waking. There was very little sound on my block; so little, in fact, that I the only sounds I could currently hear were the bubbling of my now clean fish tank, and the churning of the coffee brewing, as it did everyday.

Now, you're probably wondering, "Why is Beck Oliver up at such an early hour?" Well, let me tell you, it wasn't by choice. It was late August, Monday, August 27th, to be exact. And that unfortunately meant that break was officially over, and school was starting again. I started my senior year at Hollywood Arts in approximately two hours. Oh joy. But, it wasn't all bad. I hadn't seen any of my friends all summer, seeing as I had only gotten back from Canada a few days ago.

Sighing, I went into the tiny bathroom and turned on the water. After washing my hair, I stepped out into the main room, a towel wrapped around my waist. I know it seems a little unnecessary, me being on my own and all, but after having Consuela, my mom, and my aunt walk in on me, I had gotten in the habit of wearing a towel. I changed into a pair of ripped blue jeans and a red plaid shirt and placed my dirty clothes in my hamper. Finally, I went into the tiny kitchenette and poured my coffee into the mug, inhaling the deep, earthy aroma. I took a swig and immediately felt better. The coffee encased my body, enticing all five of the senses, and waking them up.

Now that I was awake, I looked in the fridge for anything to eat. Finding nothing, I jogged to my parent's house and silently opened their fridge. After rooting through it for a few minutes, I found that my mom was on another one of her 'health food kicks.' The only food in the house was weird health-crap, so I took a strawberry soy yogurt from Trader Joes out. It didn't look too bad, and certainly not as bad as the rest of the contents of the kitchen, but when I opened it up, I saw that it looked nothing like strawberry yogurt. It was a grey, muddy sort of color instead of the normal pink, and it had black flecks in it. Dubiously, I took a bite.

I spit it out immediately. "It tastes like shit!" I swore, wondering how vegans and gluten-free people could live off this stuff.

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I decided to stop at the 7/11 on my way to school. Politely refusing to give the Northridge girls a ride today, I hopped in my 1967 Pontiac GTO and drove the ten blocks to the convenience store. Once there, I quickly hopped out of the car and rushed into the boxy building.

The air inside the shop was freezing, a relief from the 90-some degrees outside. I strode over to the fridges at the back and found a small carton of chocolate milk. Wandering through the isles packed with junk food, I could have sworn I felt somebody watching me. But, when I whipped around, there was nobody there. Feeling foolish, I turned back around, only to find a girl blocking my path. I yelped. I mean, come on, how does somebody move that fast? I turned my back for a second, just a freakin' second and she sneaks up behind me.

The girl wasn't ugly, but she wasn't exactly my type. She had blonde hair with brown highlights and green eyes. She wore a tank top that just barely covered what should be covered and a miniskirt that was only a couple of inches long.

"Hi." She waved flirtatiously.

"Um… Hi to you to, I guess," I replied.

"I'm Lilia."  
"Beck." I added a half wave.

"That's a hot name," she said, batting her eyelids. She practically reeked of desperation.

"Thanks?" Every time she spoke, she advanced a few steps, and I retreated a few. But now, I was up against one of the shelves with nowhere to go. She kept advancing, and soon had her body pressed up against mine.

"So, Beck. How'd you like to go out with me some-" I spied some poptarts behind her left shoulder.

"Hey are those poptarts?" I asked, changing the subject as I slipped past her. "Just what I needed. See ya later, Lilia!" I spoke as quickly as I could, and bolted to the cash register. I paid and ran back out to my car. "Finally." I thought. "Safe." I could eat my poptart with out being interrupted now. I munched on it for the rest of the 20-minute drive to Hollywood Arts, finishing it just as I pulled into the parking lot.

I slammed the car door behind me. The school was practically crawling with freshmen, and I could feel almost all of the girl's eyes simultaneously swivel towards me. I smiled and waved at a cluster of girls standing by a pillar, and they waved back. I spied Andre at the end of the hallway and started walking towards him, but I could hear them titter as I walked away.

As I approached Andre, I noticed he was talking to a girl, probably a freshman, who's back was towards me.

"Yo! Andre!"  
"Beck, my man! Haven't seen you in months," he said. The girl he was talking to turned around, her face strikingly similar to Andre's. "You remember my sister, Kayla, right?"

I nodded, saying, "Of course. Nice to see you again." We shook hands, and I asked, "So, this is your first year at Hollywood Arts?" She nodded.

"What's your talent?" She smirked.

"I can sing." I raised my eyebrows at her cockiness.

"Really? Well, let's hear it then" With that, she broke into an a cappella rendition of "Halo" by Beyonce, right in the middle of the hallway. A small crowd had formed around her by the time she was finished. They burst out into applause, and she beamed at the cheers. "I can see the musical gift runs in the family," I congratulated her.

"Never doubt my singing abilities," she grinned, flipped her hair over her shoulder, and walked off to what I could only assume was her first class. I turned back to Andre.

"Your sister's good."

"Yeah she is! Harris's got music in their bones. But enough about that, what's your first class?"

I looked at my schedule. "Uh… Social Studies with Mr. Finches. You?"  
"Same. Actually, I think most of our friends got into that class."

"Speaking of our friends, where are they?"

"Well, I think Jade's scaring freshmen, Robbie is arguing with the Slap committee _again_, Cat is flirting with some boys, and Tori is on her way."  
"Huh. Tori finally got her license. But how do you know all this stuff anyway?"

"I know some people."

"They updated it on their slap page?" Andre looked down.

"Yeah." I laughed. We spent the rest of the time catching up about what happened over the summer. When the warning bell rang, we made our way to class.

* * *

I sat down near our friends in the back corner of the room. Cat and Rex were arguing while Robbie tried to intervene. Jade was texting. Andre was working on a new song, and Tori was talking to some kid I don't know. I sighed; I had always hated Social Studies. It seems pointless to have to learn about it when you're going to be an actor.

Slumping in my chair, I studied the room. It was one of the many I had never set foot in before; I usually stuck to the acting wing, which was practically on the other side of school. The walls were painted a deep blue, and a ledge ran along one of the walls, with shelves underneath and windows above it. A blackboard was mounted on the front wall, and there were several maps, as well as posters about presidents and important dates in history, posted around the room. In one corner, there was a plastic plant, and a teacher's desk stood in the other. The American and Californian flags stood in the corner behind me, and the rest of the room was filled with desks and bookshelves.

The final bell rang, and Mr. Finches walked into the room and set a brown briefcase down on the desk. He was young for a teacher, probably in his late 20's. He wore a brown polo tucked khaki pants that where held up by a black belt, which matched his black loafers. He had brown hair and blue wire rimmed glasses.

"Welcome to Social Studies, ladies and gentlemen. Now, if you could all stop talking and put away your phones while I take attendance, I would be very grateful." The class grumbled and moaned, but all the phones disappeared and the room became quiet. When he was done taking attendance, he scanned the room. "Can anyone tell me what the word immersion means?" Robbie raised his hand. "You, Mr…"

"Robbie Shapiro."  
"Ah, well Mr. Shapiro, what is the definition of immersion?"

"Isn't it like, when you're completely surrounded by something?"

"Basically, yes. For example, sometimes people learn Spanish by taking Spanish immersion courses, where everyone speaks Spanish instead of English."

"Great. Now what does this have to do with anything?" Jade spoke up from behind me.

"Good question." Mr. Finches walked to the blackboard and wrote down three words in white chalk. "Welcome to The Immersion Project," he said as he underlined the words on the blackboard.

"As many of you know, I am new this year. Helen brought me in to head up the Immersion Project, which has been done at a few high schools before with great success. For the next two semesters, all of you will be participating I the Immersion Project, which will count for a grade in most of your classes. You will be living on your own with two other classmates; all of you must be the same gender. You will get a monthly allowance, but in order to live, you must also find jobs.

"If you are missing credits, you must still take those courses. Any art or performing arts classes require you to return to Hollywood Arts to take them, but any academic courses will be taken online.

"Now, you are allowed to choose your roommates, but you must form your group quickly, and get these permission slips signed by the end of the week. Questions?"

Tori raised her hand and asked, "Does it cost much?"

"It has already been paid for in your tuition. Anyone else?" No one raised a hand. "Good, class is dismissed." Everyone rushed out of the room, grabbing a permission slip on the way out. Andre came over to me.

"Beck. Wanna be roomies?"

"Sure man, but who's our third guy?" Robbie walked over, looking dejected.

"Hey, can I join you guys? Nobody else will let me."

"Looks like we got ourselves a group!" Andre grinned.

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**Soo? How was it? What did you think? Good? Horrible? Mediocre? Let me know in a review!**

**-Building Castles**


	2. Cat can be sneaky

******Disclaimer: I own nothing**

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**Cat's POV**

Despite what many people think, my parents aren't awful. In fact, my parents are pretty great.

My dad's name is Darren. He's a tall man with dark brown hair, chocolate brown eyes, and a smile that always reaches his eyes. He's middle aged, but when he's around my mom, he acts like a teenager again. Mom's name is Anita. She's two years younger than Dad and loves him deeply. She has brown hair too, but it's starting to turn grey. She has kind, hazel eyes and a smile is always etched on her face. It's obvious that they love each other; they light up each other's worlds. Sometimes, when I come down for a glass of water at night, I'll see them slow dancing in the kitchen because they think that nobody's looking. It's actually pretty sappy, but it's cute, y'know?

Today, my day started out great. When my alarm sounded, I hopped out from underneath my pink covers and bounded down the stairs. Mom had my favorite breakfast waiting on the table. There was a big stack of strawberry pancakes in the middle of the table, and a glass of Tropicana orange juice stood by my place. The pancakes were shaped like Mickey Mouse, and chocolate chips decorated the top, forming a smiling face.

"So, Cat," my mom asked, grinning, "ready for you senior year at Hollywood Arts?"

"Yes! It's going to be so awesome! And I get to see all my friends that I haven't seen all summer, and Sikowitz, and Helen, and Festus…" The list went on and on.

"I have a feeling a few things will change this year," my mom was grinning like an idiot. She obviously knew something I didn't.

"Mom? Is there something I should know?" I asked, cautiously. My fork was halfway to my mouth, forgotten in my curiosity.

"Noo," she said, dragging out the 'o.' She always was a bad liar, but I let it go for now. I had to get ready.

I showered and changed into a pretty pink blouse, black skinny jeans, and a pair of flats. Looking in the mirror, I smiled. This was going to be the best year yet.

Mr. Finches had just finished telling us about the Immersion Project. This is so exciting. I mean, I love my parents and all, but who doesn't want a chance to live on their own for a while. Beck seems to like it. I think I'm gonna get Tori and Jade to be my roommates. They're, like, my bestest friends ever! We would have movie nights every Friday, and oh my god, it's would be like a giant sleepover that lasted a whole school year!

I was so caught up in my own fantasies that I failed to realize everyone else was picking partners. Somebody bumped into me, which finally brought me back to reality.

"Hey Cat!" Tori called. "Wanna be roomies?"

"Ooh! I was just about to ask you that!"

"Cool, so who will be our third?"

"Leave it to me!" I waggled my eyebrows. Once I made sure Tori's back was turned, I walked over to Jade, who was still sitting in her seat, texting.

"Jade."

"What?" She put down her phone to stare at me.

"Want to be in my group?"  
"Who else is in it?"

"Nobody, yet." I lied; sue me.

"Sure, whatever," Jade replied, rolling her eyes. "But who are we going to have as our third person?"

"I have someone in mind."

"Okay?" Jade said, but it was more of a question. "Just make sure it's not someone I hate."  
"Yay! We're going to have so much fun!" I gushed. I reached over to hug her, but one glare from those icy blue-green eyes and I backed off.

* * *

The next day, I got both Tori and Jade's permission slips, and handed them in with my own. I sat down in the same seat as yesterday, smiling at my success. The rest of my group of friends trickled in and sat in the seats surrounding me. It turned out that Beck, Andre, and Robbie were a group too. I mean how great is that? Maybe we'll end up living close to each other!

Mr. Finches got everyone's attention by clearing his throat. "Well, most of you brought in your permission slips, so here are the groups:

Luke, Peter, and Sam.

Eli, Jonah, and Dominick.

Andre, Robbie, and Beck.

Julia, Karen, and Greta.

Francesca, Ava, and Raven

And, finally, Tori, Jade, and Cat."

"What?" Jade screamed.

"Um, I think you've made a mistake," Tori spoke.

"I made no mistake. Miss Valentine brought me your permission slips and told me you were a group. And, unfortunately, it's too late now."

"B-but I can't live with Jade! She'll kill me!" Tori whined, her eyes as wide as saucers.

"And I can't live with a-a that!" Jade yelled.

"I'm sorry, but my decision is final. No switching." Mr. Finches said. Tori and Jade turned around and glared at me. I shrunk in my seat, but Mr. Finches went on talking.

"The next step is finding an apartment. You must be moved in by September 15th," he stated. "You will not have classes until then, so you are dismissed." I ran out of the classroom, but, of course, I was wearing flats again. Jade, in her combat boots, quickly caught up to me.

"Cat!" she yelled, grabbing my arm. "I told you to pick someone I didn't hate!"

"I'm sorry! You two are just my bestest friends, and… and-" her face softened at this. She sighed. "Whatever, Cat."

Tori finally caught up with us. "So…"

Jade rolled her eyes. "We need to find an apartment. So we should do some research. C'mon, let's go to the asphalt café." We all agreed that it was a smart idea, and so off we went, in search of a dwelling."

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Four days later, Jade came up to Tori and me, proudly saying, "I found it!"

"What?" Tori asked.

"Our apartment. Look." She held out a piece of paper she had printed out from the Internet. It had a few pictures of the apartment, and the stats. It was two bedrooms, one bath, 849 square feet, for $700 a month. There was a laundry room, and the kitchen came fully stocked with a refrigerator, stove, microwave, and dishwasher. It sounded great.

Jade and I toured it. Tori was busy taking the driver's ed course, _again. _Looking back, it was kinda crappy, but it was the best we could get for our money. One of the bedrooms was extremely small, and it wasn't in the nicest of neighborhoods, but it seemed perfect to us then.

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**Read and review, please! Oh, and h****appy 4th to those of you in America! **


	3. Grandma Frances and a New Apartment

**Well, it's certainly been a long time, hasn't it? And so much has changed. I'm sure most of you have heard about Victorious being canceled, and, if you haven't already, I urge you to do something about it.**

**On another note, I really don't have an excuse for being so late. Time just got away from me, especially with school starting so soon, and Ihad to finish up some summer projects. Please forgive me.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. Like, absolutely nothing. Nada. ****Zilch. **Not one thing. Kinda depressing, right?

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**Robbie's POV**

It had been a long day so far. I tried to ask out this girl I met at the coffee house, but, of course, she rejected me and poured her coffee on my head. Remind you of anyone? But at least Jade used ice coffee.

So, after biking five miles home, I opened the door to find my extremely judgmental grandma sitting, knitting. Not Mamaw, who was my mother's mother, but Grandma Frances, who made me call her Ma'am.

Frances was a strict, old bat who must have been born before dinosaurs even existed. I was named for her husband, Robert, who died decades ago, yet she somehow still lived. Her face was as wrinkled as a prune with strong frown lines, as her mouth was, indubitably, always curled down. Her blue-white hair was pulled back into a tight bun, a prison that no hair ever escaped from. Steely grey eyes studied you from the moment you walked in to the moment you left, and she never approved of what she saw. In her eyes, my family was a failure. My mother could never keep the house clean, and I was a wimp who couldn't do anything right. She was one of those old ladies who thought that there were certain things that "proper young men" should do. Needless to say, carrying around a puppet was not one of them. Even my father, her son, could do no right in her eyes.

So, when I arrived, dripping wet from coffee and sweat, she did not approve. Hardly surprising, but still.

"Robert!" her shrill voice called out to me. "What do you thing you're doing? Go take a shower, and then you need to learn some manners." Her eyes pierced through me, and I practically ran to the bathroom.

Quickly stripping and stepping into the shower, I turned the nozzle on to a reasonable temperature. And that's when the washing machine started. The water changed from moderately warm to burning in a few seconds, scorching my already tender skin. I screamed. I adjusted the temperature as fast as possible, and sighed with relief.

But, the universe was just out to get me today, wasn't it? Because while I was washing my hair, somebody decided o use the bathroom. And when they flushed, the temperature changed again, this time to freezing. I jumped, and the soap from my hair ran down into my eyes. I fumbled around in the shower, blinded, until I found the door. I wiped my eyes on a towel and rinsed my hair, wary of the temperature the entire time.

When I was done, I dressed in a new set of clothes; a colorful t-shirt, jeans, and sneakers. I walked down the stairs and Frances called me over.

"Young man," she said, nostrils flaring, "what on earth where you thinking. And what are you wearing. Go change into respectable clothing and we will continue this later." As I trudged back up the stairs, I heard her talking to my mom, "You let that boy walk around in those clothes? Disgraceful. That boy of yours…" Her voice faded off as I got farther away.

I changed into an entirely knew outfit that consisted of a blue polo tucked into a pair of grey slacks held up by a leather belt.

We ate dinner in silence that night, everyone glancing around at each other nervously.

I was lying on my bed when I got a text from Cat.

_Robbie! Robbie! Guess what!?_

Sighing, I replied.

_What?_

Not a minute later, my phone dinged.

_We found a place!_ I groaned. My group wasn't even close to finding an apartment within our price range. Jut another thing to add to the list of bad things today. But, it was Cat, and I couldn't be a jerk in my reply without her crying so I typed:

_Congrads Cat._

Her reply took a bit longer than usual.

_But that's not the best part! While we where checking it out, I found out that there's another apartment available, right across the hall! You guys should take it!_ Attached to the text where pictures of the apartment. I looked through them. Maybe today wasn't so horrible after all!

I texted Beck and Andre telling them to meet me at a McDonalds down the street from Hollywood Arts.

It was only 9:00, but I knew that Frances thought I was asleep. And if she found out I wasn't, she'd start lecturing me again. And if she figured out I was sneaking out… she'd stab me through the heart with her knitting needles.

As quickly as I could, I tiptoed down the stairs, careful not to make a noise. The lights in the hall were out, so, at the bottom of the steps, I smashed my foot into Frances's suitcase. I bit my tongue to keep from crying out, and hopped around on one foot, holding my throbbing foot in my hand. That's when I saw Frances.

See, in my house, when you walk into it, you see the stairway, and then there's a big arch leading into the living room. Grandma Frances was sitting in one of the chairs that looked straight into the hallway, and her eyes were wide open.

I stared back at her for a good minute before I heard it. She was snoring! The old hag slept with her eyes open! I slipped out the door and ran to my bike.

I met Beck and Andre at the McDonalds half an hour later, and we discussed the apartment well into the night (thank God for 24 hour McDonalds!). And the next day, we were signing the papers. We had an apartment. And we didn't even mind the mouse infestation.

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**So, that was short. I rewrote it like 5 times. But what did you think? Huh? Good? Bad? Ugly? Tell me in a review!**

**As always,**

**Building Castles**


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